


live my life (for you)

by angrylizardjacket (ephemeralstar)



Series: Romance Is Boring 'verse [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstar/pseuds/angrylizardjacket
Summary: A series of moments in Ash and Roger's relationship.





	1. a drunk author's scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was practically blackout drunk and i fell asleep multiple times while writing it and i was pining for my roger, so it was written to cope, so it’s both canon and non canon as it doesn’t work in the timeline, 100% but spiritually it’s definitely happened

“Ash? Whatever you doing here? I thought you had work tonight.” Roger’s sitting in the back of his van, half smiling. They don’t play pubs often anymore, hes not surprised she found them. He is surprised by the way she’s swaying, off centre, unfocused.

“I? No, work- no. Night off.  _I’ve got_  the night off.” She finally managed, holding onto the door of the van or support. When she finally looks at him, her eyes are large and unguarded, and she takes two steps towards him, moving to put her hands on his shoulders, letting him wrap his arms around his waist. Once she feels his hands on her, she leans into it,stepping forward into the the space between his legs, curling her arms around him and pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Has it been a good night out?” He asked the barest laughter in his words. Ash hummed, pressing her face closer to his, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like ‘warm’, and Roger tightened his grip on her, mumuring into her neck when he speaks. “What’s this, love?” And he gives her a gentle squeeze.

'Im drunk, Rog.“ She hums, low an syrupy, leaning back an holding his face in his hands. He takes the moment he know she won’t remember to gaze back at he likes she hafs stars in the sky. She look back at him,expression so kind and unguarded, an be leans forwards, gently pressing her lips to his. He hasn’t kissed her in months, and to feel her, warm and soft against him, it feels right.

"I realised there’s no one else id rather talk to, or be around, if I’m being honest with myself.” And she avoids his gaze, trying for a moment to look away and hide her blush, but he’s still holding her close, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones.

“You’re drunk.” He tells her, but she just smiled, all sharp teeth as she’s kissing him again.

“Part of me really hates you, but I think you might also be my favourite person in the world.”


	2. i call this one ‘its 5am and I’m waiting for my food to cook and this came to mind, set late 70s’.

“Hold still.” Ash murmured, before putting a pin in her mouth to hold it as she looked over her work. Roger looked bored, arms outstretched as Ash worked on tailoring a flashy black shirt to him.

“How much longer? My arms hurt.” He griped, and Ash couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Don’t sook, it’s not a cute look on you.” She warned, though Roger smirked despite his discomfort.

“Ash, everything’s a good look on me.” His voice dropped low, amused, and Ash gently rested her hands on his shoulders, moving down and letting him carefully lower his arms.

“That sounds like a challenge.” She grinned, stepping forward into his space, her fingers loose around his wrists as she grinned cheekily at him.

“But you’ve got a reputation, Ash, you know Elton’s been asking about you.” When he looks at her, there’s a fondness in his eyes that makes her heart flutter, just a little. She takes a moment, biting her lip as her gaze drifted to the shirt, taking her time looking him over. Once her gaze returns to his, he kisses her, gentle, smiling.

“Between making you look like a wanker, and Elton John, I’d pick humiliating you every time.” She pulled back, their lips inches apart, and Roger breaks, laughing and resting his forehead against her’s. “But not now of course,” Ash adds, stepping back and looking him over with a far more critical eye this time, “but for the future,” there’s was a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’m thinking ruffles.” That does strike a little fear into Roger’s heart, not that he can ever say that out loud.

“You’re a menace.” He laughs, loud and bright, moving easily for Ash as she slipped off the shirt. Once he was free, he took a moment to stretch before wrapping his arms around Ash who was sitting at the sewing machine. He hears her soft giggle when he pressed a kiss to her neck. “You won’t  _really_  put me in ruffles, right?” He asks, mostly joking, and when she turns to him, her expression is fond, and she kisses him.

“I definitely will.”


	3. this one’s called I had a 40 minute bus ride to a shop that was shut and Im_Sad.txt; set early 80s

When Ash gets home from Bowie’s latest tour, the house is empty, it feels like no one’s been here in months. When she calls Roger’s name, she’s met with silence. Not thinking much of it, she hauls her suitcase up to their room, too exhausted to do much more than collapse into bed and fall asleep.

Roger’s asleep on the sofa when she wakes, and he’s wide awake, and evidently still a bit drunk from the night before. He’s quiet when she kisses him in greeting, soft and affectionate as she often was after just waking up.

“Was weird coming home to an empty house;” she said, sitting herself beside him on the sofa, “where were you? Practice?” But the warm, contented air of the morning was quickly dissipating as Roger shifted uncomfortably in his seat, tense.

“Rog, what’s wrong?” She’s serious when she say it. He can’t even look at her.

“I’m sorry.” He speaks with his heart in his throat, and she immediately takes her hand from where it was resting on his knee.

“Sorry for  _what_?” She hissed, slowly getting to her feet, already feeling a little like she was going to be sick. His mouth keeps opening and closing, he’s like a fish, but no sound comes out. “ _Rog_?” There’s a shake in her voice that she  _hates,_ but she can’t keep it out. “Roger! Look at me; what did you do? Did you sell the house? Do an interview where you offended some crazy, political power? Wear someone else’s -”

“Dom’s pregnant.”

It’s like a knife to the gut, a white-hot pain filling her from the inside out.

“And you’re telling me because…?” Shock holds her voice steady, though she already knows the answer. He’s quiet for another long moment, and tears have already begun to spill down Ash’s cheeks.

“She’s keeping it.” His voice is barely more than a whisper, and his hands are shaking like its hurting him, like  _he’s_  the victim.

“ _And_?” Ash snarls through gritted teeth, hands white-knuckled were she clenched them by her sides.

“And it mine, okay, Ash? And it was a mistake!” He snapped, hurt and regret bleeding through his words. Ash actually stepped back, hand on her chest, expression disbelieving.

“A mistake?! Fucking one of my friends while I’m away until you knock her up isn’t a mistake, that’s fucking malice of forethought, Roger;” the laugh she emits is cruel and bitter, and she turns, unable to stand the sight of him, “that takes work.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Get out.”


	4. this one’s called ‘borhap set!asher? sure why not. set 2017′

When Ben comes in for his first costume fitting, there’s about ten people all buzzing around him with tape measures and pins and fabric and it’s a little overwhelming, but at the centre of it all is a stout woman with a mane of curly, grey hair holding what looks to be eight different items of clothing in her arms, who everyone else refers to as  _Rocket_. 

“You’re too fit.” Is the first thing she tells him, sitting back in an armchair in front of a desk with a fancy-looking sewing machine on it. Ben frowns in confusion, holding his arms out as the people around him take his measurements. “Well, maybe not for the eighties, but Roger was a stick in the early days.” After a beat, she extracts one of the pieces from the bundle in her arms, holding it out. Someone else rushed passed, snatching it up and taking it to another room. 

“Yeah, no I’ve been trying to slim down-” Ben squirmed a little under her unblinking scrutiny. 

“Being too fit isn’t an insult, Ben, besides; you’ve got the face for it, that’s all you really need.” Standing, she turns and dumps the pile of costumes on the chair she’d just vacated. He hadn’t been expecting her to be wearing a black, silk, short-sleeved button up shirt tucked into faded blue jeans, but then he looks back at her face, and he feels like he recognises her from somewhere.

“Have you been in anything? Where do I know you from?” After he says it, someone new altogether bursts into the room, holding the shirt that had been taken away, and the woman takes it, making her way towards him.

“Ben, I’ve been in costuming for fifty years, I’ve worked with Bowie, and Prince, and even Queen when they were still touring, been doing films for about thirty years, even won an academy award a few years ago.” She’s nonchalant about these facts, far too casual as she stands before him, unbuttoning the shirt in her hands. Ben has to work to not let his surprise show on his face. Instead, he tries to look at the little details about her, the gold thread that’s stitched into the shirt, the nicotine patch peeking out from beneath her sleeve. She looks like she’s about to say something else when the door open and Roger’s standing there, looking exasperated.

“You couldn’t have waited five minutes?” He asks, and the woman looks over her shoulder with a smirk. 

“I called you half an hour ago, you’re just slow.” She says to  _Rock Legend Roger Taylor_. Ben takes the shirt when it’s offered to him, pulling off his t-shirt. The woman steps away, picking up the bundle of costumes and handing them off to another assistant, but not before she pulls out a pair of jeans.

“Good to see you, Ben, how are you?” Roger asks, taking a seat in the now vacated chair, and Ben smiles, politely making small talk, trying to button up the shirt, but the woman smacks his hands away and hands him the jeans.

“Put these on, leave the shirt unbuttoned.” She instructed, and an assistant lead him to a curtained-off area.

“Does it need to be that unbuttoned?” He hears Roger say on the other side of the curtain.

“Listen, I fought for historical accuracy in this scene, trust me.” She sounds a little indignant, a little defensive. After a beat, she continues. “I couldn’t forget that day if I tried.” And it sounds almost wistful, which only serves to confuse Ben further.

“You’re talking about Freddie’s lizard jacket, aren’t you?” Roger sounds amused, and the woman makes a noise of agreement, a soft laugh, and when Ben pulls back the curtain, to reveal his costume, he sees the woman sitting on the arm of the chair, laughing as she rests her forehead against the side of Roger’s head, and he’s rolling his eyes, exasperatedly endeared.

“Oh look at you!” Roger announces to Ben, which snaps the woman back into focus, but she’s smiling when she looks over the confused actor.

“Seriously,  _where_ do I know you from?” He asks, stepping back into position on the plinth they’d had him on. It was on the tip of his tongue, he  _knew_ her face, it was driving him  _mad_. 

“Sounds like you haven’t done your research.” Roger tuts from his chair, and the woman smacks him on his arm. “Wait, no, Ash this is your fault, I bet you’ve given him the whole costume spiel but never mentioned me.”

“I told him we’d worked together.” She stands, moving to rifle through a costume rack, pulling out a beige leather jacket for Ben to put on.

“That’s how you’re phrasing it?” Roger calls, and she actually flips him off. “Ben, this is my  _wife_ , Ash.” He says, and Ash looks like she’s trying to repress how triumphant she’s feeling. Ben feels like he’s missed a step as  _Ash ‘Pocket Rocket’ Taylor,_ Oscar winning costume designer and wife to the person he’s meant to be playing on screen, slips a necklace over his head. Everything starts making sense.

“I- yeah no, I recognise you.” Ben admits, and Roger snorts, rolling his eyes as Ash grins.

“Love, why do you do this?” He asks, and she spins on her heel, marching over to him and sitting herself on the arm of the chair to look at where Ben stood awkwardly, assistants fiddling with the way the clothes were hanging.

“I just like hearing you say it.” Ash admits, voice quiet, though everyone can still hear her, and Ben’s pretty sure Roger’s blushing behind his beard. Everyone else seems relatively used to this.

“You’re a sap.”


	5. this one’s called ‘its 2pm and I should probably eat but also Roger needs glasses we need to discuss that. set early 70s’

It starts a week after their trip to Paris, and Roger’s complaining as he puts away his washing after getting back from the laundromat.

“Did you read the label?” Ash asks where she’s sprawled out on his bed, looking at the washing tag of the wool jumper that would now be snug on a child.

“You mean the tiny little symbols on the tag? Do you honestly think I’d bother?” Okay, maybe he has a point, but not a good one. Ash doesn’t seem amused; she gets to he knees with surprising speed and brandishes the tag in his face.

“It say in big, block letters  _not_  to machine wash!” She crows. Roger squints at the tag, gently taking the garment from Ash’s grip and taking a moment to move it closer to him and then further away. He squints harder.

“Are you  _sure_?” He finally asks, and Ash throws herself back on the bed in exasperation.

“Are you blind?” She huffs, staring up at the ceiling. Roger’s quiet for a long moment but she can hear him rustling around by his desk, and then there’s a low hum.

“Okay, by you can’t blame me, the stitching on the letters sort of blurs them in to one, it’s hard to see to begin with.” And as he says it, Ash is already propping herself up on her elbows, curious as to what made him change. The moment she looks at him, she’s a little lost for words. “What?” Roger asks, surprisingly self conscious when he meets her gaze.

“Since when did you have glasses?” She’s smirking but there’s no malice behind it, in fact, she looks rather endeared.

“You’ve known me for over a year, Ash.” Roger tells her, deadpan as he throws the jumper on the end of the bed.

“All that time? Rog, I swear I’ve never seen you in them before.” And as she says it, she beckons him over, grinning. “They look cute on you.”

“They make me look like my dad.” Roger counters, his eyes trained on Ash’s face as she analysed the wire rimmed spectacles with fascination. “I only really use them while studying.” His voice has gone quiet; he’s not blind, his eyesight is just a bit blurry at times, he has trouble with small things close up, and sometimes just far away things. He knows what Ash looks like, can see her freckles and to curl of her hair, but he’s never seen her quite so clearly.

“Okay, but how often should you be wearing them?” One of her hands comes to gently run along the side of the glasses, before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He’s silent, and his gaze drops. “I’ll take that as  _far more often than you do._ ” She’s amused before she isn’t, a realisation hitting her as she looks back on the past year in a new light. “Do you need these to drive?” She asks, and that’s when he finally gets off the bed, pulling off the glasses and shoving them back in his desk drawer. He makes a loud, non-committal noise that’s more than enough of an answer. “You drove us to Paris! That’s a five hour trip! Were you just winging it the whole time and hoping we didn’t crash?”

“You have a very skewed idea of how bad my vision actually is.” He countered, and Ash ran her hands through her hair with a sigh. “Listen, I can see well enough without them, love, you don’t need to worry.” He makes his way over to the bed, dropping down beside her and stretching out. From here, the afternoon light streaming in through the window catches in her hair, half haloing her in a brilliant orange glow.

“You stress me out sometimes, you know that?” She mused, but there’s a fond smile on her lips, and Roger’s answering smile is mischievous.

“Yes, but I’m also very good at helping you  _de-stress_.”


	6. this one’s called ‘i’m in tokyo and i love this idea omg. set mid-70s’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> To make you laugh: you know that photo shoot in which roger was modeling for some catalogue??? Imagine him modeling for ash and it just turning into something ridiculous as his poses get more and more “seductive”

“I can go lower,” Roger offered, grin wide, going from an already dangerously wide split, to standing up straight and trying a high kick, as if to prove a point. The look on Ash’s face is  _priceless_.

“You’re going to rip them!” She cried, holding the camera in a white-knuckled grip as Roger tugged at the waistband of the pants Ash had him modelling.

“Then you shouldn’t have made them so tight.” Roger kicks out again where he’s leaning against the wall of their apartment where Ash has pulled down the posters to serve as a neutral backdrop. Ash looks rightly horrified at his antics. 

“These are for EMI! They’re concept pictures for my line for Bowie; I swear-” She warned, and Roger leans off the wall, smile growing wider, but he stops obligingly halfway between Ash and the wall.

“Alright, where do you want me?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“There’s great;” Ash grins despite herself, lifting the camera up, “just, I don’t know, be yourself, but try not to rip the clothes, okay babe?” 

It starts off tame enough, well, as tame as can be expected from Roger wearing tight, gold, sequinned pants, and a sheer vest, basically dripping with dark blue glitter. It was silly, fun, a few over-the-shoulder shots, a few movement shots of him jumping or kicking to show off the flexibility of the fabric, at least two of Roger grabbing his own ass.

“How does it look?” He asked, and Ash has to bite back a laugh.

“Go look in the mirror.” She countered with, and Roger gave her a pointed look. “Fine, those pants look like they were made for you.” She snickered, and Roger shimmied in response, the sound of the sequins rustling barely audible even in the quiet flat. After a beat, Ash took the borrowed camera from around her neck and disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, before reappearing with the polaroid camera that she kept for special occasions.

“Ooh, feeling fancy, are we?” Roger asked, and Ash rolled her eyes, cocking her hip as she looked at him from the doorframe. Without missing a beat, Roger lay himself on the ground, posing like a playboy model.

“What are you doing, you muppet?” Laughing, Ash makes her way over to him, offering her hand. He takes it, looks only a little put out, and immediately goes to pose with one foot on the wall.

“If this is for your personal collection I want it to be worth it.” He tells her, and takes his foot off the wall, turning away from her and pulling the vest so it was hanging off of one shoulder, and he looked over at her wiggling his eyebrow as he stuck his hip out to complete the look. 

She ends up taking the photo in the kitchen; Ash sits at the  _very end_ of the kitchen island, pushing everything behind her back to give her ample space, and Roger stands between her legs on a stool so his hips and pants are visible above the counter, his hands holding her thighs. She leans back on the counter, practically laying down, her hips and thighs framing him in the shot. His eyes aren’t visible in the photo, but he’s biting hip lip, which she didn’t catch at first, but the moment the image prints and she’s moved the camera, he’s leaning down over her, crushing his lips to hers, pressing her to the cool counter top.

Until there’s a loud tearing sound.

“Did you just rip the ass of those pants?” Ash asked quietly as Roger stands up almost immediately. “Take them off.” She orders, sitting herself on her elbows, and Roger is immediately grinning, complying easily as he pulls down the waistband of the pants where he’s standing. “This is punishment taking-pants-off, this isn’t sexy!” But she’s laughing, and despite the fact that he almost overbalances on the stool when he’s trying to pull the pants off, Roger manage to survive, and presses Ash’s knees together so he can straddle her, sitting back on her thighs as she gazes up at him from where she’s leaning back on her elbows.

“Punishment taking-pants-off  _is_ sexy, love.” He grinned, leaning down to press his lips to hers as his fingers find the buttons of her shirt. “I love it when you get all bossy.”


	7. this one is ‘its 5pm and i wanted to get content out; i mean i have a few fics half finished but not the focus to finish them right now, so have the borhap cast talking about meeting and working with ash. set 2018′

“Wait, wait, wait!” Joe holds up his hand, and the rest of the boys quiet down, turning to him with amusement, “while we’re talking about Brian and Roger, can we take a minute to discuss Rocket?” And there’s a chorus of agreements as the interviewer looks on with confusion. “Ash might be the single most intimidating person I’ve ever met in my life.” He announces, and it’s almost a unanimous nod from the others.

“Oh,  _Ash Taylor_ , that was who you played, wasn’t it, Karen?” The interviewer’s face lights up with realisation as the ginger nodded from her spot at the end of the couch. “Roger Taylor’s wife and their costume designer, if I recall.” 

“She was our costume designer too,” Ben adds, “which was interesting because she takes such a hands-on approach to the film in the way that other people, like, say, Roger and Brian, just couldn’t at times.”

“Of course, we did spend a lot of time with all of them,” Gwilym muses, sitting back against the sofa as his gaze drifts a little, “but when there’s quite a lot of time when its just you in the fitting room, with Ash, and three assistants, and she’s telling you all these stories-”

“Half of which you’re like, surely this can’t all be true!” Karen cuts in with a laugh, Ben beside her turning pink as he nods in agreement. “Like research alone brings up some… I’m going to say  _interesting_ stories, for the sake of modesty.” The ginger grins, to amused to be flustered, “and the thing is she’s very forthcoming when you ask her about her life.”

“Alright, quickfire round,” Joe leads the interview with a grin, “favourite possibly-fake Ash story; go.”

“I’ve always liked the one she and Roger told us about how, before they were even together, they went to Scotland to set her ex’s office on fire.” Rami’s the first to answer, big, fond smile on his face, “Roger says its the first time he realised he loved her.”

“What about when she dragged Prince along to a parent-teacher conference for one of her daughters?” Gwil chimed in, before explaining to the reporter, “one of Astrid - their eldest’s - classmates had apparently said something about Ash or Roger, and she’s punched him, so of course the school calls them, and Ash is literally in the middle of a fitting with  _Prince,_  but the school is demanding she be there, so she just like… brings Prince along?” He laughs, before looking to Lucy, who had leaned forward with a story on the tip of her tongue.

“You guys were there, but she said it so quietly; we were all talking about how rumours and things can get out of hand, and Roger and Brian were talking about how it was so much easier to be discrete back in like, the seventies and eighties, and I’m sitting next to Ash and I just hear under her breath - and don’t worry, she said I could tell this story, it’s like Karen said, she’s very forthcoming - but anyway I just hear her mumble ‘ _It took Rog a full year to find out I’d slept with Bowie’_ and I’m there like,  _did I just hear that right_?!” And as she sits back, both Karen and Ben are nodding as if it’s a story they both know far too well. 

“My favourite, the one I think sums Ash up for me, will always be her Oscars acceptance speech from ninety-six, I think it was?” Joe hums for a moment before nodding, continuing, “And she tells this story about how she saw the first executive she’d ever been rejected by for a position on a film, and she calls him out  _by name_ , points him out in the crowd, and she’s wearing this big grin, holding the Oscar, and she explains that he sent her this three page letter talking about how she’d never amount to anything, how she’d always just be a boyband stylist, like really scathing, and she ends the speech by putting a little sequinned outfit on the statue that she’d made herself, and she flips off the executive  _on live television_ , and she blows a kiss to the audience, and she says the line - you know the line, the ‘ _amounting to nothing feels a lot like vindication’._ Even before I met her that was my favourite story of hers.” He admits.

There’s a long silence that follows, and everyone turns to Ben and Karen, waiting expectantly. Ben’s grinning behind his hand, and Karen’s watching him with a thoughtful half smile.

“I don’t know which ones would be appropriate.” Ben finally says, and Karen snorts out a laugh, agreeing easily.

“I mean, when I first met her, I thought that people had been exaggerating how short she was.” Karen begins, repressing an embarrassed smile, “I though’ oh she’s like maybe five-seven, five-eight, and she’s standing next to her husband and he’s about the same height as me, and I thought everyone had been exaggerating-”

“And so you mention it.” Ben chimes in, fondly reminiscing. “At this point Roger just starts  _laughing his ass off_ , and we’re both there like, confused as all hell; and then Ash takes her shoes off.”

“This woman is  _sixty-eight_ ,” Karen emphasises, “is  _five-foot-two,_ and wears  _six inch platform boots_.” She paused for a beat, leaning back; Ben grinned at her, a fond look in his eyes as she spoke, “This was my first time meeting her, and I’ve never been like, nervous about a role like this before; I’d watched interviews with her, and she’s in a few documentaries with Queen and Elton, and there’s so many interviews with her on YouTube, like behind the scenes for movies and TV shows, and I’d done all this research and everyone was like, ‘oh no, you’ll be fine, you’ve got the look and the confidence’ and I was like, thanks, that’s kind, but then I met her and I was immediately like… you are incorrect.” She laughed.

“She’s the most confident woman I think I’ve ever met.” Lucy adds, to which the rest of them agree, before there’s a lull, and the interviewer brings them back to his own questions.


	8. this one's called "im finally heading home and I wrote this on my phone in the airport  and Ash does have family, and it's weird to see even one of them, set 79''

“Ashley? Ashley Clarke?” The moment Ash hears her full name being called at an after party in an accent that’s far too familar, her blood runs cold. They’re playing in London and she never expected anyone from her home town to be  _here_ ,  _now_. The music around her becomes white noise as she turns on her heel, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off, she may not recognise the voice, but they obviously recognise her, which is enough to set her on edge. But when she turns, there’s a young woman behind her, grinning and surprisingly familiar. “I almost didn’t recognise you.” The woman laughs, stepping into Ash’s space and wrapping her in a hug.

“Do I know you?” Ash asks, awkwardly prying the young woman off of her, and the girl’s face falls.

“Ashley it’s me, it’s Mikayla.” And the moment it clicks into place, that this woman is her younger sister, Ash takes another step back, frowning, a sudden anxiety coursing through her, even after all these years.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I saw the show, and one of my friends knows, I don’t know, someone who knows someone who got us invited here; I didn’t know you’d be here.” Mikayla speaks like she’s trying to calm a frightened animal, and surprisingly it actually seems to work. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” And she goes to leave, but Ash reaches out, snagging her sister by the shoulder.

“Minnie- wait,” she sighs, forcing herself to relax, “how old are you now?” And when Minnie answers that she’s twenty-two, not even bothering to hide her confused and a little hurt frown, Ash pulls her to the bar and buys her a drink.

“If you’re twenty-two that means it’s been,” Ash takes her out to the back of the pub where it’s quieter, where they have more space to themselves, “fuck, it hasn’t really been eleven years, has it? No wonder I didn’t recognise you,” Ash laughs, but Minnie isn’t nearly so candid about it.

“Yeah, a lots happened since you left.”

“Since I was kicked out,” Ash corrects sharply, and Minnie at least has the decency to look apologetic, “where’s Ellie?”

“Fucked if I know, probably playing happy families,” she doesn’t sound happy about it, “she’s married, you know? Last I heard she was expecting, but that was a while ago, so who knows,” she shrugged, taking a long sip of he drink as Ash’s brow furrowed.

“You and Ellie don’t speak?”

“Well I mean her husband is my ex-fiance so…” She shrugged, before giving Ash a wry smile. “Like I said, a lot’s happened.”

“Min, that’s fucked, what the hell? You guys were The Shining twins when I left,” Ash’s eyes are wide as saucers as she looks at her little sister, who laughs, loud and sharp.

“We were eleven!” There’s a long pause, and Minnie looks up to the stars above, her smile turning soft and whistful. “It’s so strange, I never realised how much I missed you ‘til I saw you again. Were you just planning to never come back? Never see us again?”

“Mum and dad don’t want to see me,” Ash rolled her eyes, and Minnie frowned.

“Of course they do! I mean, mum acts like doesn’t want to see anyone apart from Ellie, she’s barely spoken to Oz since his divorce - Oz got married too, by the way, like it didn’t work out but the ceremony was beautiful - but she’s just a traditionalist hypocrite.”

“Oz got married?” Ash’s voice is so gentle it almost hurts, and when Minnie looks at her, she sees the tears in Ash’s eyes.

“You’d love his kids,” Minnie smiles, taking her sisters hand and giving a fond squeeze, “Allen’s almost ten, looks just like a little version of Oz, and Jackie’s six, she’s a terror.” Minnie laughs softly, and Ash joins her. Part of her is completely overwhelmed with guilt, but then she pushes it down; however much she would have liked to see her brother, it doesn’t override the fact that he was one of the people who helped run her out of town when she was nineteen. Brushing the tears from her eyes, Ash smiles.

“I’ll have to meet them one day, now Min, what have you been up to-” before Ash can finish asking her question, Minnie grabs her hand, eyes wide as she focuses on the ring on Ash’s finger.

“Did  _you_  get married?” She gasps, and Ash pulls her hand from Minnie’s grasp.

“Calm down, I’m just engaged.” She laughs softly, but Minnie is still agape.

“Ace, you’re  _engaged_ , to  _who_?” She demands to know, which startles a laugh from Ash.

“God, no-one’s called me that in  _years_ ,” she mused, “he’s around here somewhere, I’ll introduce you later.” She assured, and that set Minnie off on a whole new round of questions, why she was at the party, what she’d been doing with her life, how long she’d been with this ’ _mystery man_ ’ (and wouldn’t Roger get a kick out of that).

Ash is hesitant to tell Minnie too much, she doesn’t blame the girl for what happened over a decade ago, she was eleven at the time after all, but it was an automatic response when speaking to her family. She says she’s a designer and that alludes to the fact that she works with the band before she’s off and asking Minnie about her own life. Minnie really had changed in the past decade, dropping out of university to become an assistant to a museum curator. Of course this delights Ash, and Minnie’s halfway through gushing about their latest collection when her voice dies in her throat and her eyes go wide.

“So this is where you’ve hidden yourself away, you know Freddie’s been looking for you.” Roger slings an arm around Ash’s waist as he comes up to the sisters, shooting Minnie a grin where she’s giving him a starry-eyed gaze.

“Oh god, he hasn’t ripped that jacket has he?” Ash asks, leaning her head against his shoulder and wearing a terribly put-upon look. Roger snorts, shaking his head. “Is it his pants? I told him I’m not fixing another broken zipper,” Ash groaned, before waving it off. “Whatever, Paul has a packet of safety pins, he’ll survive; Rog, this is Minnie.” She introduces, as if finally remembering her little sister sitting across from her. Roger sticks out his free hand.

“Mikayla, _hi_.” Minnie corrects with flushed cheeks, snapping from star-struck to flirtatious in an instant. Ash fights to not roll her eyes, which she thinks Roger can sense by the way he gives her hip a squeeze.

“ _Minnie_ ,” Ash says pointedly, “this is Roger Taylor, my fiance.” Minnie just about screams at that, at the please little grin Roger’s wearing. “This is my little sister.” Ash clarifies, and suddenly any confusion Roger had had cleared in an instant.

“I thought I recognised you,” and he turns, lifting Ash’s chin so she’s looking at him, though she seems incredibly exasperated, and he’s amused for the barest moment before pinching he cheek and turning back to Minnie, “you’ve got the same face.”

“Similar, not the same.” It’s an kneejerk response from Minnie, who’s lived her life hearing those words while standing beside her twin, but Roger doesn’t think too hard about it and concedes easily.

Roger hides his confusion easily, but Ash knows it’s there. For all the time she’s known him the only thing she’s ever genuinely been cagey about is her family, he knew she had a sister, well two, but the other doesn’t seem to be here, but he’s never really known anything about them beyond their names. But even so, he can tell Ash is nervous, even though she goes to commendable lengths to hide it. He’s zoned out from the conversation for a bit, but when he comes to, Ash is grinning at him.

“Huh?”

“Min wants to know what I do for the band,” Ash grins, before Roger smirks at her and she elbows him, “don’t be gross.” She warned, but that only made him smile wider.

“So this one Halloween-” Roger starts, but Ash stands so fast her chair goes crashing to the ground. She’s as red as her hair, and she slaps a hand over his mouth.

“I told you to not be gross- stop licking my hand!” She cries, and he tries to say something but she refuses to move. Minnie watches like she can’t quite fathom that her sister is bantering  _and engaged to_  the rock star she’s had a crush on since she was fifteen. “Don’t bring that up around my little sister, and anyways that Halloween is between you, me, and the trees-” She snapped though she was grinning, and finally she removed her hand.

“So that’s what you’re calling him-” and with that Roger’s mouth is covered again, but they’re both laughing, he’s got his arms around her and Ash has her forehead pressed to his chest, but Minnie’s starting to put two and two together.

“ _Ace_ …” A little in awe but mostly scandalised, “have you-?”

“No, shut up, whatever it is I haven’t done it!” Ash is quick to deny, stepping away from Roger as he simply laughs louder, though he’s quiet endeared by the nickname. “I’m their stylist, I make their clothes and plan their outfits.” She clears up, though Minnie raises her eyebrows sceptically. “I’m gonna kill you when we get home,” she murmurs to Roger, but she’s smiling, and he just wiggles his eyebrows at her. Minnie feels something break in her mind… They live together; her older sister is in love with Roger Taylor, and despite all the tabloid articles she’s read about his reputation, he loves her too.

“I’ve missed you, Ashley,” Minnie says when Roger returns to the crowd. They both watch him go, and Ash is wearing a smile that the younger woman knows all too well, how smitten she is with that pretty rock star. Ash grins at Minnie, taking her hand and giving it a fond squeeze.

“I’ve missed you too, Minnie.”


	9. Alright Alright Alright let’s talk about Ash at the 91st Oscars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so not technically part of the 'this one's called' theme but it's here

she is tempted to not even go, not that she doesn’t believe they’ll win, it’s just that she’s tired after thirty or so years of award shows.

it’s rami explicitly saying ‘i want you to be there, please’ that convinces her. if he wins best actor and she misses it she knows she’ll regret it.

she has her hair straightened and pinned up, a sleek black suit with shiny black floral detailing, and a red silk undershirt, with black kitten heels (she’s shorter than usual and joe tries to pinch her cheek and call her adorable but she smacks his hand - this is caught on camera in the back of someone else’s interview)

ash gets a group photo with the boys and allen that immediately goes on Joe’s instagram captioned ‘male friends ft. Ma Rocket’ and ash reposts it with the caption 'accidentally adopted this cast i guess. me and the male friends. 2019.’ (listen, present!ash on social media and being protective of the borhap cast is something i have a lot of thoughts about) 

she also gets a photo with lucy and gillian captioned 'me and my favourite adopted children. 2019.’ joe and ben are play upset on their instagram stories. rami and gwil just comments a bunch of hearts.

in terms of her own kids reactions’:

  * astrid likes the photo
  * cate comments: that’s valid
  * barney comments: my two favourite sisters (astrid and cate both like this comment, neither responds)



also consider ash calling joe ‘trixie’ on live tv in an interview, and ben crashing the interview to announce that he’s the favourite. ash goes on a thirty second tangent to fix his bowtie and compliment his outfit and steal his sunglasses. “but anyways, i love all my children equally, but gillian’s my favourite,” she says with a completely straight face wearing ben’s sunglasses with him pouting in the background

during queen’s opening performance, she’s mostly fine until the very end of we are the champions, and the sparks begin to rain down, and the clip of freddie plays and it all hits her, where she is and how much it took to get here, and she genuinely has to leave because she starts bawling her eyes out. (her makeup’s mostly waterproof so she doesn’t have to touch up too much and she manages to sneak back before borhap wins anything, but she starts crying again during rami’s acceptance speech)

barney is at the oscars because he was in a critically successful movie that earned the director a nomination, and there’s series of photos taken by a photographer that later find their way to roger’s instagram;

  * a photo of barney at the after party lifting ash up off the ground and spinning her around as they’re both beaming
  * both and ash and roger standing before him, their arms linked and their back to the camera, and ash is holding one of his hands, and roger has a hand on his shoulder, and barney just looks so fucking proud of both of them???
  * roger and barney in a very tight hug, and ash giving them both adoring looks
  * barney holding out his phone, as if he’s trying to get all three of them in shot while their backs are all to the photographer, and the picture pics up the image of cate and astrid on screen, face timing them; everyone is beaming



the series is captioned ‘won’t you hear us sing our family song?’

(BONUS: a series of videos on ben’s instagram story, all posted in the space of 30 minutes;

  * drunk barney saying these actual words to an also drunk joe: how dare you try and steal my mother for your nefarious purposes
  * joe, vaguely incomprehensible, trying to convince barney that it’s all part of a joke but also not a joke and he just adores her (in the middle of their argument, ben crash zooms into ash in the background behind them eating cheese. she throws a piece at roger and giggles)
  * “What the fuck, yes I know what a meme is!” Barney shouts, and proceeds to show joe the memes he has saved on his phone (ash and roger, out of focus in the background, walk out of frame)
    * ‘luke tagged me in this one like a week ago’



  * it devolves into joe excitedly looking at memes and pictures of barney’s cat
    * ‘dude is he wearing a sweater?’
    * ‘ma made him it for christmas and it’s somehow the only clothing he tolerates’
    * ‘rocket made your cat a sweater for christmas?’ joe is visibly teary at the idea
  * barney and joe, completely incomprehensible, just enthusing about ash
  * “this man is my brother!” barney with his arm around joe, talking to the camera very seriously
    * ‘what about me?’ ben asks from behind the camera
    * ‘oh obviously, you’re so much less nefarious than him, i never had a problem with you, dude.’
    * joe getting up in arms about being called nefarious and the fact that barney was apparently cool with the rest of the cast being adopted by ash
  * they seem to quickly make peace, though it’s at least twenty minutes later, as the last set of videos is joe and barney recreating the ‘you are my dad! (you’re my dad. boogie woogie woogie woogie!)’ vine, except it’s ‘mum’, and ben spins quickly to catch ash for a reaction. she’s holding roger’s hand and both of them look a little less than pristine, a little rumpled; not like super noticeably, but you could see ash’s jacket sitting a little skewed in person. she looks visibly startled by the attention, and also like she didn’t see or if she did, didn’t understand, the boys.
    * ‘what the-’
    * joe: ‘where’ve you guys been anyway? gwil and brian were looking for you they want a photo’ the camera spins back around to film him, and barney is just looking at his parents through narrowed eyes. it dawns on him.
    * [ash, from off camera, like a warning: trixie-]
    * barney: joe, shut up. ma- (he looks at the camera, as if suddenly remembering) I gotta go; christ, guys. (he leaves, joe looks confused)
    * the camera spins back to ash and roger. ash looks embarrassed but pleased, roger is grinning.
    * ash: this feels familiar
    * roger: maybe fifty years ago
    * [joe, from off camera, barely audible as if he’s trying to be quiet: okay, alright, i already know too much about you guys-]
    * ben, also off camera, zooming uncomfortably close to roger’s face where roger’s laughing, with ben speaking as if whispering into the microphone: i played him in a movie you know
    * [ash, not visible as the screen is entirely filled with roger’s cheeky grin: ben stop that.]



okay so this is real long and real dumb but i love my kids.


	10. this one's called 'im soft n a bit sad. set multiple'

In the 70s, Ash doesn’t dance. Well she does, when she’s feeling soft and drunk and it’s just them in the apartment. It’s like she’s always on guard, terrified to look anything less than perfect, but sometimes, just occasionally, Roger will put on a record or the radio, and the right tune will hit her in the right mood and she’ll move like nothing else matters. Roger likes to watch her, not because she’s particularly good, in fact her tone deafness seems to be just a symptom of her musical illiteracy as she doesn’t seem to be able to keep or even find a beat either - the irony of certain parts of their relationship is not lost on Roger.

_“I enjoy music, I just don’t seem to be able to understand how it works.”_

So he watches her dance, bop around their flat wearing a ratty old shirt and a pair of boxers, often covered in paint or bits of thread, and she looks  _happy_. Unashamedly happy. She doesn’t let herself look like that a lot.

And maybe he’s on the sofa or in the kitchen or maybe he’s just walked in the door, but she pulls him into the living room; she doesn’t like him just watching, so she pulls him in to dance too.

“Why are you smiling like that?” She blushes; where she is unabashedly happy, he is unabashedly fond.

“You’re a  _terrible_  dancer,” but the way he says it has her smiling wide, dancing wilder, brighter, laughing loud and surprisingly unselfconcious.

“But you  _lo-ove_  me,” she sings. The way he kisses her is answer enough.

When everything goes tits up, when Roger’s mistake breaks everything they’d work to build, he misses those smiles, those kisses he misses more than he wants to admit. It hurts to see her barely smile and remember the way she regarded him with only love in her eyes.

And he sees her dance in moments when he pretends his heart belongs to Dominique, but Ash’s eyes are glazed over like she’s not quite herself. She smiles vacantly on film, at Fred’s parties, and Roger hears from other that she’s drunk or high or lonely, and it  _hurts_.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, he’s sure she won’t even remember this in an hour, let alone beyond this.

When he gets her back she doesn’t dance like she used to, she barely dances at all. She’s wary of him, of the relationship, of committing after everything that’s happened, and she fills the holes in her heart with coke and work. It takes the realisation that she’s going to lie her best friend to make her realise how much she loves Roger, and to see how much he’s  _trying_  for her.

She dances at their wedding.

It’s not as carefree as it once was, it’s just a slow waltz, his arms around her, but she fits just like she used to, and it feels right.

She knows in the crowd, her eldest daughter is sitting on John’s shoulders, and Freddie, even as frail as he is, has her newborn in his arms, but all she can see is Roger. She sees him now, sees everything they’ve gone through, and knows without a shadow of a doubt that she chose him. And when he smiles at her, her heart still races.

“You’ve gotten better.” His voice is so gentle, so fond and familiar. Ash still laughs. “I love you.” It’s so sincere it almost hurts, and after  _everything_ , Ash doesn’t doubt him for a second. He chose her, like she chose him.

“I love you too.”


End file.
